Now a Major Motion Picture: The Wedding Games

From Vladivostok they came
to play a wedding game
a case of vodka the prize
with competitive eyes
they rushed
and they popped
when to everyone’s surprise
up flipped their skirts
the groomsmen smirked
so the bride declared a tie
and ordered them birched
so all they got
for bursting their balloons
was to forfeit the knickers
and abstain from the liquor
but the boyfriends did rise
[to the occasion]
and after the toasts
made the most of the roast
that their girlfriend’s behinds had become

so let that be a lesson
when playing silly games
if the camera is rolling
keep your underwear from showing
and never
ever
piss off the bride

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

You hear the one about the caned wife?

“Go on! Count them! See what the brute did to me. Twenty-one times!”

She’d burst into my office like a fuzzy gin; all rounded and bristling like a hedgehog, throwing her elbows on my desk; her puppies gamboling out of cornflower silk lace brassiere begging for a lick and a promise. I leaned back: she climbed on top. Not that I mind a good cowgirl ride, but usually there are adult beverages involved before a broad holds her nose long enough to forget my mug.

She crouched like a cougar, reaching back to ruck up her miniskirt; all the while wailing her distress. ‘Look, look,’ she said, pointing over her shoulder in the direction of her ass. I, being the consummate gentlemen — even when consummating a transaction consummated in a dark and smoky dive — heaved my walrus-like bulk out of my recliner and waddled around to peek at her goodies.

“See?”

I saw. I saw a dame who did Pilates; probably a spinner too and hot yoga. I saw matching panties, the lace snugged up tight over her mons and biting deep into her tangy valley. What I didn’t see was the alleged brutality to her posterior. I said as much, and added, “If this is a case of abuse, call the fuzz.”

The look she gave me would have lowered my I.Q. into the negative realm had she not rolled her eyes and her knickers down her thighs. My eyes rolled too. Luckily I’m a jaded hard-ass who’s seen it all. That didn’t mean my one-eyed salami wasn’t salivating for a side of sauerkraut and white cream dressing. “Now… I see.”

There were multiple lines tracing—

“Count them!”

There were at least—

“I thought you were a dick? Use your fingers, moron!”

I used my thumb. Starting at the crests of her pillowy hillocks, I firmly pressed each welt from end-to-end. As I got lower, she got higher: her plump buttocks reaching for the sky, the tight fabric stretched taut between her tense thighs threatening to tear in twain. Her musk filled my blood, my cock screamed for air. By the time both thumbs were prying her crease open like a can of mustard sardines, my tongue was only inches away from s—

“Aren’t you going to take pictures?”

Mesmerized by her pink lips, I mewled like a brokenhearted calf when she slid off my desk, her rump scent marking my groin as she wiggled her cornflower blue panties up and her red miniskirt down.

“I guess not. So, will you take the case?”

Too stiff to sit just yet, I suavely perched on the corner and offered her a menthol. I flicked my Bic, she blew smoke rings around my libido. “What case?”

“My husband is—”

“I don’t do divorce, sweet cheeks.”

“Listen you imbecile, I don’t want a divorce, I don’t want the flatfeet involved, all I want is you to find out where his chippy lives.”

“Okay.” I must have redeemed myself, because she started spewing like Niagara Falls right before they turn it off at night. It seems they were in a D/s relationship and things were peachy right up until he started a new job with long hours and overnight trips. The spankings were coming less and less frequent, like the number 24 bus on a Friday night when the college kids were on break. The final straw was the twenty-one stroke caning. Which is when she stormed out of their house like a banshee looking for an agave grove to quench her fire and fury.

“So you see, I have a contract! I demand he lives up to his responsibilities!”

“So… it was too much?”

“Are you a fucking idiot? NO! It was supposed to be fifty with the cane and an ass reaming!”

I waited until Vesuvius stopped erupting. “Well… I can give you the rest, if you want.”

The setting sun was obscured by the cloud of tire smoke like from an all-you-can-eat barbecue when she peeled her Ferrari out of the parking lot. I rubbed the mark on my face. For a sweet piece of tail, she sure could swing a racket. I leaned back in my chair, took a swig of Jack and a couple of Tums. It’s tough being a P.I.

I guess dinner wouldn’t be forthcoming tonight. I dialed for takeout and waited for her return.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

But can you exchange it for a sweater?

CRACK!
“What on earth are they cheering about?”
CRACK!
“All I know is Daryell refuses to let me in his workshop.”
CRACK!
“Is he making a sexbot?”
CRACK!
“Doesn’t sound like it, and besides, why would he insist on having Franklin and Tyrone help him ‘put the finishing touches on’?”
CRACK!
“Beats me, but it sure sounds like a paddle to me.”
“I got a text. ‘Come on down to the basement, ladies, and meet The Three Gadgeteers and their latest creation.'”
“Oh, Lord, they done did it again.”
“What do you bet they’ve built a spanking bench.”
“I thought he was joking!”
“At least he didn’t get you a riding mower like I got.”
“Or season tickets to indoor lacrosse.”
“One of these days he’s gonna find a gadget where the sun don’t shine.”
CRACK!
“Sure sounds like they’re having a good ol’ time reliving their frat days.”
“Be a shame to interrupt.”
“Frozen margaritas?”
“Let’s go. Rock, paper, scissors for who gets to drink virgin.”

gadget |ˈgajit|
noun
a small mechanical device or tool, esp. an ingenious or novel one: a state-of-the-art kitchen with every conceivable gadget.
DERIVATIVES
gadgeteer |ˌgajiˈti(ə)r|noun,
gadgetry |-trē|noun,
gadgety adjective
ORIGIN late 19th cent. (originally in nautical use): probably from French gâchette ‘lock mechanism’ or from the French dialect word gagée ‘tool.’

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Sugar is sweet, but your ass is mine

When I read this week’s Wicked Wednesday prompt, sugar, the first thing that popped into my mind was this 1969 song, “Sugar, Sugar” by The Archies.

A $1.00 kiss at the video cartoon Kissing Booth back then would cost $6.71 today. [A bargain if there’s tongue involved] Which got me searching for Archie spankings, and the comic strip below that was published in November 1973. For those of you unfamiliar with Archie Comics, the first issue was published in Dec. 1941 and is still being published today, 76 years later. Now, I don’t write fan fiction, but the premise of Archie having two “potential” girlfriends—Betty and Veronica—and never being able to decide between them, has a certain traction within the spanking genre in terms of a spank-off contest of jealous girls.

If it were me, I’d Dom them both, but that’s because I have delusions of polyamory grandeur. 🙄

Archie spanking Veronica. Source: Chicago Spanking Review

“Girls! Enough! What did I say would happen to both of you, if you fought again over access to my studly and magnificent body?”
“You said you’d spank us. Boo-hoo. We’re so scared.”
“Don’t try to sugarcoat your actions. I’m not a one-girlfriend man, so it’s my way or the highway.”
“You just want to have your cake and eat it too.”
“Oh, and he eats me so well… too bad your pussy smells like a swamp!”
“Does not!”
“Does to!”
“He likes my ass better!”
“Does not!”
“Does to! He fucked it so good last night even your inflated ego would’ve fit!”
SMACK!
SMACK!
“GIRLS! STOP SLAPPING EACH OTHER!”
“She started it!”
“Did not!”
“Did to! It’s not fair! She’s your favorite just ‘cuse she’s an anal whore!”
“No way! You’re his favorite ‘cuse you like your throat fucked like a frat slut!”
“GIRLS! ENOUGH!”
“Sorry/Not sorry.”
“I’m the Dom in this household and both of you are my subs. Agreed?”
“Yes.”
“And do both of you get equal time with me?”
“Yes/No.”
“Well?”
“She got ten extra minutes last Wednesday.”
“You got twenty extra minutes last Sunday when you ‘claimed’ you had a cramp.”
“I did! The spreader bar caused a charlie horse in my thigh.”
“Was that before or after he whipped your butt for lying.”
“I never lie! I’m sugar and you’re spice. Remember?”
“What are you doing, Sir?”
You… lay over the table here… and you, lay over there. Hold hands… no, like this. After I tie your ankles to the table legs, and cuff your wrists together, I’m going to belt both of you until you make sweet with each other.”
“Never!”
“Never!”
“Then your butts are going to be battered and welted if you don’t kiss and make up.”
“And if we do so?”
“I’ll churn your pussies into butter and spray my sweet white cream frosting all over your faces.”
“What do you think? Should we cave to his perverted fantasy?”
“I bet you cave first.”
“Never! I can take twice as many strokes as you. I bet you cry first!”
“Never! The loser has to be a slave for a week and do anything asked. Get ready to suck some ass, bitch.”
“Fuck you! And that’s exactly where my strap-on is going to be buried all next week. Up your skinny ass, skank.”
“Bring it on!”
“It’s a deal.”
CRACK! CRACK!
“Harder, Sir! Make her scream!”
CRACK! CRACK!
“What’s the matter, Sir? Too much sugar rotting your muscles? WHIP HER!”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“I still think he likes you better.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“That’s okay. He still thinks we hate each other.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“DAMN! He’s pissed off.”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
“Better than pissed on.”
“Says you.”
“WHAT?”
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Spanking With The Stars

Definition of celebrity: ORIGIN late Middle English (in the sense ‘solemn ceremony’): from Old French celebrite or Latin celebritas, from celeber, celebr- ‘frequented or honored.’

Source Wikipedia: Athletes in Ancient Greece were welcomed home as heroes, had songs and poems written in their honor, and received free food and gifts from those seeking celebrity endorsement. Ancient Rome similarly lauded actors and notorious gladiators, and Julius Caesar appeared on a coin in his own lifetime (a departure from the usual depiction of battles and divine lineage).

In the early 12th century, Thomas Becket became famous following his murder. He was promoted by the Christian Church as a martyr and images of him and scenes from his life became widespread in just a few years. In a pattern often repeated, what started out as an explosion of popularity (often referred to with the suffix ‘mania’) turned into a long-lasting fame: pilgrimages to Canterbury Cathedral where he was killed became instantly fashionable and the fascination with his life and death have inspired plays and films.

The cult of personality (particularly in the west) can be traced back to the Romantics in the 18th Century, whose livelihood as artists and poets depended on the currency of their reputation. The establishment of cultural hot-spots became an important factor in the process of generating fame: for example, London and Paris in the 18th and 19th Centuries. Newspapers started including gossip columns and certain clubs and events became places to be seen in order to receive publicity.

“What’s the Fall lineup looking like?”
“Pretty bad. Those streaming sites are eating our lunch.”
“Guys, we need some original content here.”
“Well…”
“Go on, spit it out. It can’t be any worse than your last idea.”
Spanking With The Stars.”
“Okay… I was wrong.”
“No! It’s a great idea!”
“Really? This isn’t cable you know, the FCC is still stuck in the last century when it comes to kink.”
“Listen guys! Look, if HBO can do GOT and STARZ can do the Outlander, we can show spanking. It’s 50 shades of whatever, and it’s about time we seized the initiative.”
“I can’t see how we could possibly round up enough celebs—even C-list—to even make a pilot. It’s a dumb idea.”
“Remember the Battle of the Network Stars back in the ’70s? We combine DWTS with Survivor, throw in a little Lost with Naked and Afraid, and we make a reality spanking show where the challenges are all BDSM themed. Hey, if Christian Grey can sell hundreds of millions of books and, make movies despite insipid acting and lame discipline, we can make a television show work.”
“She’s got a point, boss. Throw enough cash and social media follows, there are plenty of celebrities out there who’d put their butts on the line for a shiny trophy and Instagram pics.”
“So who gets spanked? Joe the Plumber and Doris the Housewife, or the used-to-be-famous-until-they-snorted-their-residuals?”
“I say both. I think Taylor Swift would make an awesome dominatrix! And the Rock? Sign me up to fail if he’s swinging the paddle!”
“I’d like to give Bieber a good caning.”
“How about a Kardashian?”
“How about the entire clan?”
“They’re probably already into that.”
“Hey, there’s this website called Chross that lists spankos.”
“Check it out! Madonna and Katy Perry! I know we can get those two as judges.”
“Alright, alright, it sounds viable. Start making some calls and shake the bushes. No, not shrubbery, the Bushes. As in Presidents Bushes. And while you’re at it, ring up the Palace. If anyone’s into kinky sex, it’s Will and Kate.”

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked

Flashback Friday: “Sometimes I doubt my sanity”

This week’s Flashback Friday was originally posted, March 23rd, 2010.

Listening to Pink is a mistake: when you’re in a bar at closing time. What she can sing about is not what I should say when I’ve been drinking since ten the previous night. Why drink? Hell, it’s not like I like the taste. But the freedom it offers. Haven’t you always wanted to say whatever the fuck you wanted to whomever you wanted whenever you wanted? Like it’s the buzz, the release of that nattering nanny – aka Mommy Dearest – who is always telling you to keep your knees together and your underwear clean. Hey bitch! I don’t wear underwear anymore! So there! I drink because I’m a powerful modern woman who takes no prisoners. Gurls rock! I LOVE YOU PINK! OK. Hangovers suck. Especially since all my BFFs have betrayed the code and gotten married to “He’s so sweet and nice and so romantic.” Fuck you! I don’t need you to hold my hair back. Rubber bands work just fine. I don’t need romance and flowers and hearts carved in trees. If I want sex, I take it. No man has ever turned me down I’ll have you know. I use them and toss them back into that cesspool known as dating. I don’t date. I fuck. I fuck in the day, at night; whenever and wherever I want. I can’t believe they busted me for public indecency! Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve blown over half the cops in this crappy town and now they suddenly get all righteous on my ass? WTF? Hey! I got a great ass if I do say so myself and I do say so myself even if it’s currently parked in the slammer between a hooker and a druggie. Excuse me? Alcohol is legal and so is sex: the last time I checked it was still a free country. Everyone has sex but everyone acts like the biggest frigging prudish hypocrite when they actually see something sexual going down. Did I mention I like going down? Please. Like any guy would turn down a blow job from a smoking hot chick like moi. That’s french for ‘me’ in case you were wondering. I am an international woman of mystery. But I wouldn’t blow Austin Powers on a dare. Five hundred? Maybe. Fine. I’m picky, so sue me. It’s not like I’m desperate or anything. We are way off the beaten path in this podunk excuse for a community, but there are still enough guys, married or otherwise to go around. Believe you me, they get around, I have the pictures to prove it. Did someone say pictures? I meant memories. I would never stoop to shooting a porno flick. I mean I could, I am a dynamic sex goddess even if my name isn’t Crystal Kneepads, but you know, making money off my body doesn’t seem right. Food and drinks are good, jewelry and gift cards are better, but straight cash seems tawdry and cheap. Sorry if that pisses you off honey but I like to choose my partners. Really? Judge Myers? He does what? That pervert! I can’t believe it! What? It beats a couple of years upstate? How many times have you… that many? Why do you keep coming back? You like it? WTF? Why would anyone like to be spanked? Cause it feels good? OK. If you say so. Damn. I have got to get outta here. Stuck in jail with bimbos who like to get spanked by a judge in lieu of prison time. That’s french for ‘you’re fucked so bend over and take what’s coming to you’. Oh well. I guess it’s better than being some dykes bitch. Maybe Judge Myers would accept a blow job instead. Haven’t done him yet. Always thought he was kinda creepy. Who knew?

  • Corrupted

    Now available, "Corrupted", an anthology from Sexy Little Pages, including my short story, Ghosting Past Emily. Click the picture for ebookstore links.

  • Ghosting Past Emily — part of the Corrupted anthology

    After Amsterdam and Berlin, Tokyo was her favorite place to explore the latest in technological sexuality. Unlike in Europe though, in Japan she would always be gaijin, and the locals off limits to her needs. On the crowded streets of Ginza she felt the stares and heard the unspoken contempt, Go back to where you came from, which was something it had in common with America. She was too tall, too confident, too yellow and most of all, too female. She channeled the perceived insults into taboo actions.
    It was a tired and bitter Emily that touched down ten hours later in a San Francisco of bone-chilling damp and a watery rising sun. She needed a hard session at the Armory before returning to work on Monday. Her slave had better be ready to grovel and be pussy-whipped.

  • Purchase: The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    Click the picture to purchase, The Case of the Disciplined Valentine.

  • The Case of the Disciplined Valentine

    A comedy of Victorian manners mixed with delicious spankings and sexual encounters guaranteed to raise even a vampire’s blood pressure. Byron Cane sets a torrid pace in his historical paranormal erotic novella.

    It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Sir Nachton MacRath is warily returning to his home isle after decades abroad. He has good reasons to steer clear of the Royal Family, but is immediately snared by the Queen herself, who anoints him, Her Chastiser of Loose Morals, complete with elevation to the upper reaches of the aristocracy. Rather than a quiet existence as a vampire, he is now a Peer uneasily rubbing shoulders with the most powerful men in the Empire.

    Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but like all her contemporaries, longs for some excitement and romance. Valentine’s Day is only weeks away, when their paths cross with a bump. Despite later discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. The more encounters with Sir MacRath she has, the more her body yearns to know what it is to submit to his vampiric touch. When he reluctantly agrees to be her Valentine, thus begins a Domination and discipline the likes of which she’s never dreamed.

    MacRath doesn’t feel he deserves Phoebe’s love, and attempts to push her away by taking her deeper into sexual submission. She surprises him — and herself — by eagerly submitting to his every desire. Together, they explore the sensual heights that a woman and a man — a vampire — can reach. But politics and conflict are never far away, and the Valentine’s Day deadline comes all too soon.

    Note: The original version of this book was included in the Lust in Lace paranormal romance anthology.

  • Purchase: The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie

    Purchase The Spanking Misadventures of Stephanie by clicking the picture.

    Pity poor Stephanie: twenty-five years old and still spanked daily. She was intelligent, a college graduate with honors, articulate, a fashionista with a good job and an all-round delightful person with never a cross word and always a genuine smile for everyone. It was to her misfortune that she also exuded an innocent sensual charm, leading both men and women to have one uppermost thought in their minds: spanking Stephanie’s spectacular and epic rounded bottom. It was not her fault; genetics had blessed her with both the ideal rear end and a delightful bewildered submissiveness. It simply never occurred to her to challenge her discipline. If someone needed to spank her, well, obviously she was guilty of some offense and thus deserved to be spanked.
    When Stephanie crashes (quite literally) into the life of Ross, high flying exec in the fashion world and eligible bachelor, she is stupefied he wants her as his. Under Ross’ tutelage, as Brat to his Sir, she learns that she can be spanked for more than just being naughty! And Ross — he discovers there’s much more to Stephanie than just her submissive need to be disciplined, as he falls more and more in love.
    A brilliantly funny, light-hearted, spanking erotic romance novella by Byron Cane, with memorable characters and a beautiful love story interwoven into the sexiness, lending a contemporary twist to the princess fairy tale.

  • Lust in Spring

    Click picture to go to Lust in Spring Amazon page

  • Lust in Spring anthology

    In Byron Cane's, The Witch of Olympus Hollow, it’s 1952, and Gale Johnson is outraged when her parents send her packing to a tiny town in Appalachia to visit the mysterious great aunt she has never met. In the foothills of North Carolina, Gale will discover a wondrous birthright. A lifetime of discipline and sexual satisfaction awaits, but her destiny comes at a cost.
  • Lust in Lace

    Purchase Lust in Lace on Amazon Kindle. Click picture to go to Amazon.

  • Lust in Lace anthology

    In Byron Cane's Sir MacRath Thrashes his Valentine, MacRath is a centuries-old vampire returning home after decades of absence. It is 1854 in steampunk London, and Her Majesty has appointed MacRath Her Chastiser of Loose Morals. Phoebe Hayward is a lady of good breeding, but quite a handful. Despite discovering the man ordered to discipline her is actually a vampire, she can’t help falling in love. MacRath will ensure she is well punished and dominated in all ways as befits his naughty Valentine.
  • PNRLUST

  • Paranormal Erotic Romance

    Come visit the Paranormal Erotic Romance website for information about the Lust anthology series. Read Lust by the Sea, Lust on the Wing, Lust in Tooth and Claw, Lust in Winter and Lust in Lace.

  • ‘Hit Me With Your Best Shot’ Oops. Does that date me? These are the top posts.

  • Back writing 6/30/16 short stories and a spanking novel